


You are so beautiful to me (can't you see?)

by SweetPollyOliver



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Data POV, Getting Together, M/M, romantic gestures misconstrued as platonic, socially awkward engineers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:44:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9070237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPollyOliver/pseuds/SweetPollyOliver
Summary: Flirting is hard when you're too anxious to be totally unambiguous that that's what you're doing and the person you're flirting with really needs it to be spelled out to realise that someone likes them.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katiemariie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katiemariie/gifts).



> This is a little handwavey in terms of where it occurs in canon, but I'm thinking probably it's post-TNG and post-First Contact. It's also a little canon divergent in a couple of ways. 
> 
> Written for round six of the trek rarepair swap.

Data examined the top of Lieutenant Barclay's head in lieu of making eye contact, a feat which had been rendered impossible by Barclay resting his forehead against the surface of his table while he groaned.

"Mr. Barclay, you appear to be… distressed," he said. "May I be of any assistance?"

"Thank you, I'm fine, sir," Barclay drew his head up to almost meet Data’s eyes. 

"You were groaning," Data said. 

"That is correct, sir," Barclay replied.

"Forgive me if I am in error," Data said. "But lying facedown at a table and groaning at a steady pitch of a low B flat does not suggest to me that you are as fine as you claim." 

"What's the significance of the pitch I was groaning at?" Barclay asked.

"Perhaps none," Data admitted. "Although it has been said that flattened notes have a melancholy quality to them."

"B flat and A sharp are enharmonic," Barclay said in a manner that Data felt could be characterised as obstinate. “I could have been groaning an A sharp.”

"I am not equipped to judge the emotional tenor of the note itself in isolation," Data agreed with an incline of his head. "But I am more confident that groaning _does_ betray a melancholic mood." 

"I'm not-" Barclay stopped himself and swallowed. "This isn't anything I would want to bother you with, sir." 

"I would not be bothered," Data said. "I am incapable of frustration."

Barclay opened his mouth again. 

"I am also incapable of offense," Data added. "So if you would prefer to tell me to 'lose myself' that can also be easily accomplished."

"No, Data, I don't want you to get lost," Barclay said with a sigh. He gestured at the seat across from him. 

Data took the seat.

"How much do you know about dating, sir?" Barclay asked, no sooner than the seat of Data's pants had brushed the chair. 

"I am familiar with the mating customs of millions of cultures," Data said. "In theory I know everything there is to know which has been recorded and made available to Federation databases. However, it must be admitted, in practice my experience has been… limited. And never an unqualified success."

Barclay's head bobbed up and down urgently.

"Yes, yes, that's it exactly," he said. "You can research as much as you want, but nothing is ever as simple as it seems on paper. Like… flowers! Such a standard, uncontroversial gift. But do you think one of the several dozen books I read mentioned allergies?"

"Your flowers made the object of your affection sneeze?" Data asked.

"No!" Barclay replied. "Nothing as cute-story-we'll-tell-our-grandchildren-about as that. My flowers made me sneeze _on_ the object of my affections. Who I can never face again. And who I work with. Do you think Captain Picard could transfer me to another ship by tomorrow morning?"

"I believe it is unlikely," Data said. "Was it a bad sneeze?"

"Bad?" Barclay said. "I think I got snot in his hair." 

Data paused before answering again. 

"That is unfortunate," he said. 

Barclay's head fell to the table again and he resumed groaning what may have been an A sharp or a B flat. Data reached over gingerly to pat his shoulder. 

* 

"Happy birthday," Data said, holding out a data rod with a new Sherlock Holmes mystery, as Geordi opened the door to his quarters.

"Thanks, Data," Geordi smiled. "Come in." 

As Data crossed the threshold he stopped suddenly at the sight of a large bouquet of variously coloured lilies, roses and freesias. The colour balance was not ideal, to Data's painter's eye, but they had a strong and pleasing aroma. Geordi noticed him staring.

"Nice, huh?" he said. "Reg gave them to me. Grew them himself—well, Keiko helped him out—but he actually thought to breed for scent so that I could enjoy them without seeing them. Poor guy nearly turned his lungs inside out sneezing at the pollen when he was giving them to me, though."

"A thoughtful gift," Data said. 

"Yeah, I'm really pleased," Geordi said. "A few years ago he was too nervous to stay and blow out candles at his own birthday when we got him a cake in Engineering, but now he's going to this much trouble for a friend's birthday." 

"He thinks very highly of you," Data said, still considering how much he should confide in Geordi about his conversation with Lieutenant Barclay in Ten Forward. 

He had not been specifically sworn to secrecy—had not even been told the identity of the recipient of Barclay's gift—but he could not help but feel that it skirted close to a betrayal of a confidence.

"I think so," Geordi said with a shrug. "I mean, I like to think so. I've tried to make him feel more comfortable at work. I think he appreciates it."

*

The next morning Data sat down across from a breakfasting Lieutenant Barclay, who jumped a little, in Ten Forward.

"Commander," Barclay said. 

"Lieutenant," Data replied with a nod. "I thought you would appreciate knowing that Geordi is unaware that you intended your gift to be construed as a romantic overture. He also did not mind that you sneezed on him. I believe he thought it was funny." 

Barclay turned several colours in a brief span of microseconds before settling on deathly white.

" _You told him that-_ " 

"I did not," Data replied. "However I am his best friend. It was not difficult to deduce that the flowers you gave to the object of your affections and the flowers displayed in Geordi's quarters yesterday, which he informed me he received from you, were one and the same."

Barclay slumped in his seat. 

"The thought occurs that giving him a romantic gift _on_ his birthday may have led to his misconception that it was simply a platonic gift given from one friend to another." 

"That was the plan," Barclay said glumly. "'Oh, Commander, you misunderstand me, I give all my friends flowers that I'm allergic to as gifts. Have a wonderful birthday, boss!'"

"If I may offer some criticism, this technique seems rather timid," Data said.

"Have you met me?" Barclay asked. Data frowned pensively at the question.

"If I had not met you, it would not be possible for me to converse with you—let alone about a personal matter. In fact I have met you a total of-"

"I misspoke, I'm sorry," Barclay said. "I meant to say that _I'm_ rather timid. If I'm going to get as far as asking someone out I need plausible deniability in case it all goes wrong."

"Ah," Data said. "I appreciate the difficulty you have in surmounting your issues with social intercourse. I fear that I do not have much advice to offer on how better to navigate this problem."

Barclay tucked a fist under this chin and sighed.

"Faint heart never won fair maiden, huh?" he said.

"Perhaps then not all is lost," Data replied. "Geordi is neither." 

* 

The thought of Geordi's potential romantic partner had never been something Data had given much thought. He had briefly entertained the idea of wooing him himself, but it had seemed selfish to do so just so that Geordi would not meet someone who would surpass Data in his affections. Additionally, their friendship was not something Data felt could be improved on by a change in dynamic and, as it currently stood, it was the most important relationship in his life. He did not wish to jeopardise it on a whim.

Giving the matter closer thought now, he felt that he may very well approve of Reginald Barclay as a prospective candidate. He was an excellent engineer, he was sensible of Geordi's many fine qualities and he was kind when he was not too anxious to be. 

More importantly, he was interested in Geordi. Geordi had an unfortunate habit of developing attachments to people who were _not_ interested in him. When he asked for her opinion, Counsellor Troi had ventured the thought to Data that perhaps Geordi secretly believed that no one could be attracted to him, so he sought out people who would confirm this to him. Data could not help but think that, if true, this was deeply misguided. Geordi was accomplished, considerate of others and handsome by any metric. He had no reason to suppose that these qualities would not be found attractive by anybody. 

Despite devoting considerable processing power to the problem, Data could not think of a logical reason for why Geordi would believe this about himself. It was at times like these he most regretted not being able to empathise with human emotions. 

It was doubly unfortunate, however, that Lieutenant Barclay found it difficult to unambiguously declare his regard for Geordi given that Geordi seemed quite prepared to accept the platonic explanation for any overture Barclay _did_ make. 

Five days after his first attempt with the flowers, Barclay asked Geordi to visit the holodeck with him: Geordi asked for a rain check and suggested that Lieutenant Costa accompany him in his stead. 

A week after that, Barclay asked him if he wanted to join him for a hike during the upcoming shore leave and Geordi had said he was going to be catching up on some technical manuals. 

"I mean… am I just _that guy_?" Barclay asked Data. "The guy who doesn't know how to take a hint and won't stop asking?"

"I do not believe so," Data said. "I think if that were the case that Geordi would tell you more explicitly that he was not interested. And he would have told me, which he has not. It is my belief that he still does not realise that your intentions are romantic."

"But how?" Barclay asked. "Once, okay, twice, maybe, but three times?" 

Data paused. "If someone were to approach _you_ in the manner you have approached Geordi, would you find it possible to rationalise their behaviour away?"

"Well yes," Barclay said. "But that's different—people feel sorry for me. Even if they don't particularly like me they go out of their way to include me because I'm so bad at-" he waved his hands around, "everything. But Geordi is charming, at ease with _everyone_ , the head of his department and he's _gorgeous_. I’m surprised everyone isn’t attracted to him."

"Perhaps you should tell him that," Data said. 

Barclay's complexion turned mottled pink and white. 

"I can't!" he said. 

"In that case, I am not sure how you should proceed," Data said. "As I have said, my practical experience in this area is limited."

"It's okay," Barclay said, looking a little defeated. "I never really expected it to work anyway. At least this way he doesn't have to let me down easy." 

*

Two weeks passed and Data had thought the matter was more or less resolved—or at least resolved to be unresolved. Lieutenant Barclay made no further overtures to Geordi that Data was made aware of and Geordi came to no belated realisations on the subject of Barclay's feelings for him. Or, in any case, if he did he did not confide in Data about them. 

It seemed unsatisfying an end to Data, but real life rarely behaved as satisfyingly as fiction when it came to securing unfastened ends of a narrative. 

Therefore, when Geordi came to his quarters with slumped shoulders and a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth, Data did not immediately connect it to the recent abortive courtship involving Geordi and Lieutenant Barclay. 

"Hey, Data," he said. 

"Is something wrong, Geordi?" Data asked. "You seem troubled."

"It's fine," Geordi said. "Work just kind of sucked today. Not people-died sucked, though, so I don't want to lose perspective. Do you want to go finish the new Holmes mystery?"

As the episode with Reginald Barclay's groan in B flat had proved some weeks ago, Data was not good at ignoring the distress of others when it had become obvious to him.

"I would like that," he said. "However, if you would find it helpful to discuss what 'sucked' about your work day, I would appreciate being of assistance." 

"It's okay," Geordi said with a low, humourless chuckle. "I'm not dying on the inside or anything. Reg quit; he's taking a ground assignment. Something called Project Pathfinder. I'm just kind of down about it." 

Data blinked.

"Lieutenant Barclay quit?" he asked. "Was there any… inciting incident of which you are aware?"

"No!" Geordi said. "I have no idea why he wants to go. I tried to ask him about it, but he just… I don't know, it was like he had a script he'd rehearsed and he wasn't going off-book for anyone."

That did sound like a Reginald Barclay approach. 

"I really thought he'd gotten to feel like he was valued and _wanted_ in Engineering, you know?" Geordi said. "And that he felt a connection to… the staff." 

"I'm sorry, Geordi," Data said simply. 

"It's okay," Geordi replied. "It sucks, but these things happen. You're not going to be able to be the commanding officer that everyone under you needs every time. And, besides, Reg doesn't owe me anything. And maybe he's just ready to move on to the next thing."

Moving on from a known and comfortable situation did not sound like Reginald Barclay approach.

"You may be right," Data said, resolving to look into it later, before Lieutenant Barclay left the ship. 

*

In the end, he didn't need to look into it. 

Data turned the corner to Geordi's quarters to find Lieutenant Barclay standing outside the door with another bunch of flowers, eyes streaming from either emotion or proximity to pollen, arms wrapped tightly around Geordi La Forge. Data took a few steps back to avoid being noticed.

"I don't understand," Geordi's voice was muffled against Barclay's shoulder. "You're telling me this right before you _leave_?"

"There was method to my madness," Barclay said. "If you said yes then I'd need to find another job so that we weren't breaking fraternisation regs and if you said no, well… I had an exit strategy."

"Well now that I _have_ said yes, can’t you get a job in another department on the Enterprise?" Geordi asked. They had separated now and their gazes were directed towards their clasped hands. 

"I'm an engineer," Barclay said, shaking his head. "And I think… even though I initially applied for not so good reasons, I think I can do good work with Project Pathfinder. I want to help the Voyager crew." 

"Well I'll try not to be too jealous," Geordi said. "It figures that as soon as I start seeing someone we have to do the long distance thing." 

"I know, I'm sorry," Barclay said softly, with a smile in his voice. "But we're not boldly going anywhere plenty of other 'fleet officers have gone before. I think it can work."

"Me too," Geordi replied. "My parents served on different ships for most of their marriage, but they got around to conceiving me and my sister sometime. Hell, we're both pretty awkward, it might be easier this way at first."

"Can I kiss you?" Barclay asked.

Data turned to walk away and give them some privacy before Geordi answered, but he was not in doubt of the answer his friend would give.


End file.
